Holiday
by annietheauthor
Summary: Following the disastrous downfall of Marissa Fittes and her agency, Lockwood and Co. is sent out on holiday in accordance with Inspector Barnes' wishes. The entire trip is paid for, but shortly after their arrival, they're plagued with robberies, murders, and imminent danger. Aside from this, Lucy & Lockwood share many heartwarming moments inspired by recent events (Locklyle) (TEG)
1. Intruder

**Hello Everyone! Welcome to my fourth story. I'm not sure if any of you have been monitoring my activity, but, nevertheless, sorry for my lengthy absence. Upon finishing my last story, I noted that I struggled with some characterization in one of the main roles, so hopefully I'll hit the nail on the head this time. As usual, I hope you enjoy the story, and, either way, I would really appreciate a review. Happy reading! ~Annie**

 **Holiday**

 **Chapter One: Intruder**

"Let's go! Cab's due in five!" Lockwood's voice echoed up the stairs and into my room. I ran around hurriedly, packing things in my duffle bag as I went.

" _This is procrastination at its_ finest," chuckled the Skull gleefully.

"Bathing suits. Where are my blasted bathing suits?" I cried.

 _"Door."_

"Ah, yes. Tha –" **_Thunk!_**

 _"Well, that had to hurt."_

"Yes, yes it did," I murmured, scrabbling to my feet. I kicked the shoe that I'd tripped over to the side as I grabbed the shopping bag off of the door handle and thrust the new suits into my bag. "That's it. That's all I need." I scooped up the Skull just as Lockwood called to me once more.

"All right, Luce. We _really_ need to go!"

"Coming!" I called back. Then, I ran down the stairs, passed Lockwood in the front hallway, and went out the door. Behind me, he switched off the lamp and locked up 35 Portland Row. I waited. Lockwood turned to face me, suitcase in hand, and grinned. Not just any grin, but an infectious one. I couldn't help feeling excited myself. In all of my years, I had never once been on holiday. Lockwood briskly walked with me to the cab, hand on my lower back. I dumped my bags in the trunk and slid in. There sat, four warm, familiar faces. Two being my close associates not to mention friends, George Cubbins and Holly Munroe. One was a dear friend and trusted ally, Quill Kipps, former agent at the recently failed Fittes agency. And finally, Flo Bones, relic-girl and long-term friend of my boss, friend, and so much more, Anthony Lockwood.

"Took you long enough," Kipps grumped. He was squished in between Holly and George, mostly George. Holly took up little room, and she did not seem to mind Quill invading her space all too much. They'd been _stepping out_ as of late.

"Are we all set? Great. Let's go," Lockwood beamed from the front seat. In Lockwood's absence, as he was seated beside our driver, I had sat next to Flo to give her support. It sounds funny really. She's a strong, smart girl, but in the daylight, she seemed a little more feeble than usual being a relic-girl and all that. She didn't enjoy being out in the daytime, but everyone had insisted that she join us.

I suppose you're wondering where we were headed off to. Well, due to our recent successes, overwhelming amount of business, but mostly our involvement in the downfall of Marissa Fittes, Inspector Montague Barnes of Scotland Yard, contrary to his deepest annoyance against our charming leader, found it fit to provide payment for a weeklong holiday away from London. I wasn't quite sure where our destination was at the time, for Lockwood refused to share any details, but he had let on that it would be warm, and that beyond a doubt, we would need swimsuits. Inspector Barnes had paid for all of us, Flo Bones included. She, too, had taken part in the recent destruction of the most trusted and eldest agencies in all of London. She deserved the break, though I could tell it made her nervous.

"You can't tell us anything?" inquired Holly.

"Nope," grinned Lockwood, barely containing his excitement. "Oh, actually, seeing as we're nearing our stop, it's best that I hand you these." He passed back bag tags. We were flying. Sure, I'd followed Lockwood into many situations. We'd jumped into the pitch-black Thames, gone in haunted iron circles, and even traversed across a frozen London, but flying? In an aeroplane? That made my stomach unsteady. Still, I fastened it to my duffel and said nothing.

Soon enough, we arrived at our destination, the airport. I won't bore you with the details of it. We checked in for our flight. Lockwood refused to give us our tickets until the very last moment, as they would spoil the location. Finally, he handed me mine, and I read in bold letters " **British Virgin Islands**." I looked at him. He said nothing, but only smiled. It turned out, once we were accommodated on the plane, that my seat was placed between George and Lockwood. Lockwood took the aisle, and I forced George into the window seat. I preferred to not be reminded that I would soon be off of the ground. Upon takeoff, I faintly remember clutching someone's arm for dear life, before blacking out perhaps from fear, but most likely due to lack of sleep. And not long after, I woke to the gentle shaking of my arm.

"Lucy? Luce? We're here." I opened my eyes to find Lockwood standing above me. He smiled. "Everyone is gathering their things, here." I unbuckled my seat belt and stood. Soon, we were in cabs to the hotel. It was nearly eight at night. In the darkness, I could not see many details of the island, but I had no doubt that it was beautiful. I became excited at the prospect of the upcoming week. Around ten, I withdrew to my room, leaving the others outside on a patio, who would later follow suite. It had been a long day of traveling, and I felt the exhaustion slowly overcoming me. Sleep came easily.

* * *

Sometime, in the early, early hours of the morning, I heard a thud, awaking me from my sleep. Trouble was, it repeated again. The room was cold, and although I had left the room air conditioning off, I could feel the temperature dropping. It was only then that I noticed the open window, the streaming curtains billowing in the nighttime wind, only then that I realized that I was not alone. Someone was in my room. Despite being on holiday, I was an agent, which meant I carried my rapier with me everywhere. I fought back the sleep that drifted in my brain, that remained in control of my eyes. I fought back sleep in order to remember where I had laid it earlier that night. The chair. I slipped from bed and slinked over to the chair. All went successfully, and finally, my eyes adjusted to the dark. Across the room, I saw a shape ruffling through my bags. I hoped that it was just a petty thief. I prayed that it was someone from the island, and not someone who had followed us there. Over the past few years, Lockwood and Co. had made many enemies, none of which would be afraid to follow us across the waters to an island nation. The next few moments were a blur. I must have tripped or knocked my rapier against something. Either way, the intruder noticed that I was out of bed. He ran towards me as I swung my rapier. There was a clashing of swords. A brief struggle. I felt my blade slice against skin, as I slashed it towards my attacker. Suddenly, he thrust me backwards, onto the bed, and slipped out of the open window and down the flower terraces.

In front of me, outside the window, I saw a faint glow. It's light steadily grew brighter as it drew near my window. All at once, it smashed through the panes, shattering on my floor. I planted my feet and tightened my grip on my rapier. A ghost bomb. No, it was not as I had hoped; it was no burglar. Instead, it was exactly what I had feared: We had been tracked. Although, we were on holiday, I had brought a few of my supplies with me. Those being two bags of salt, and one canister of iron filings. The figure was that of a young boy. He smiled eerily, before forcing himself towards me. I swung. My rapier passed through his upper chest. He floated back before attempting again. Maintaining a defensive position, I shuffled over to my work backpack. Inside were the supplies as well as the Skull. Unfortunately, the stopper that was built into the silver glass had been shut closed. The Skull's help would've been greatly useful. Clutching the bag in my hand, I advanced towards the ghost's Source, which, as I later learned, was a small pocket watch. I scattered the salt before collapsing against the bedpost. I panted, fighting to catch my breath. It was then that I heard a knock at my door.

I briskly walked over, sword still in hand. A voice spoke, muffled by the door. "Are you okay? Lucy? Open this door now." Lockwood. It was Lockwood. I swung the door back. Thankfully, my appearance was not too rough. I wore an oversized t-shirt and some tight cotton shorts. Lockwood stood there in the dim hallway light. He wore his typical dark pajamas. His feet were bare. I could tell that he had wasted no time in arriving to my room. His eyes flicked down to the sword in my hand, and, at the same time, we both noticed a line of blood running down my shirtsleeve from my upper arm. I shifted, attempting to conceal the bloodstream from him, but Lockwood pushed past me into the room and looked around. In a matter of seconds, he looked back at me standing there, and, slipping his hand around my waist, he turned me to him. "What happened? Just now?" he questioned. There was no humor in his eyes.

I struggled out a response. "Someone broke in." Lockwood straightened his back, and without waiting for more details, he started to speak.

"You're hurt. Come with me." He began ushering me towards the door.

"What?" I questioned. "Where are you taking me?"

"My room. I don't think that they'll return, but I'm not taking chances and leaving you in here alone." We walked down the quiet hallway. Lockwood's room wasn't far from mine. It wasn't long before he had me seated on the edge of his bed. I waited as he shut the door, shot the bolt, and turned on a lamp.

An unknown time later, Lockwood had dressed my wound, despite my annoyance, and we were both sitting on his bed, eating crisps while watching the tele.

"So, you said you woke up to him in your room?" Lockwood asked.

"Yeah, he was just _there._ I guess the Skull would've alerted me, except his stopper was closed. I very rarely close it..."

Lockwood was thoughtful. "This is exactly what happened when Winkman and the black marketeers came after the skull jar. Two differences though."

"Which are...?"

"One, they didn't take the jar, so it's really just the same scenario," Lockwood said. I nodded. "Two, you're on my team again, which I'm very thankful for." He smiled, and I couldn't help feeling a little flushed. When I had last been broken into was during my few months as a freelance operative. They were difficult but had been inspired by an overwhelming fear that my presence in the company was endangering Lockwood's lifespan, so I left.

"Me too...me too. Lockwood –"

"Yes?"

"The ghost bomb."

"Yes. That surprises me. It was an unnecessary touch. They had already escaped. I'm not sure why it was used." His hand was on his chin, and I could tell that he was deep in thought. I cleaned up our late-night snack. Then, I resumed my position on the end of the bed, unsure what to do next. Suddenly, Lockwood became still and quiet. "Er, if you are uncomfortable with this, uh, arrangement, I can sleep on the floor." He looked at me, dark eyes still showing concern, with an underlying hint of anger. I knew that he was not going to let the attack go easily.

"No," I said, smiling. "I hadn't thought about that at all. And it's alright. It's your room, anyway. Plus, we both need a good night's rest. I don't mind." I walked over to the bed and drew the covers back.

Lockwood grinned. "Great. I didn't think you would. Let me know if at any point you feel uncomfortable, okay?" I nodded. He slid into bed next to me.

* * *

For a while, we lay there in his bed, discussing the night's events. There wasn't much to say, so Lockwood switched the conversation over to the remainder of our holiday. I couldn't help feeling excited. I knew that he had planned a brilliant trip. After Lockwood had clicked off his lamp, I rested my head on his chest, and he placed an arm around me. I was slightly shaken up, and the intruder's appearance stunned us both since it was our first night on the island. After that, I scarcely recall the conversation. I remember looking at the clock. It was 1:57 when I finally settled down against Lockwood, closing my eyes, and willing sleep to come.


	2. Morning

**Chapter Two: Morning**

I woke to light streaming in through the bright white curtains that covered the ceiling-to-floor window panes. As my eyes fluttered open and adjusted to the sunlight, I studied Lockwood's room. Unlike mine, in the center of the windows was a glass door which opened onto a balcony. Roses stemmed up the terrace and spilled over onto the floor of the overhang. I thought it was lovely. Inside, there was the master bed, a chest of drawers, a television, a sitting area, and three doors. One led to the closet, one to the bathroom, and finally, one to the outside hallway. Lockwood's suitcase was neatly positioned on a luggage rack, though his belongings had been stored inside the drawers. I sat up in bed. He was nowhere to be seen. Letting out a sigh, I laid back down and rolled over in the sheets. My legs were bare and felt _amazing_ against the cool, white bed clothes. But, I felt...strange, almost wispy. Everything that had happened the night before felt like a dream. It was overwhelming. Not only the fact that my room had been broken into, but also, I'd slept in Lockwood's room. That was so strange, almost so intense that I couldn't comprehend it. I could've said no. I could've gone to Holly. But, in the moment, my mind had been temporarily out of use.

Halting my thoughts in their tracks, I heard a key in the latch, making me sit up in bed. Suddenly, bright-eyed and wide-smiled, Lockwood walked through the door carrying a small brown bag and two styrofoam cups. "I got tea," he beamed. "Oh, I didn't wake you, did I?" In a matter of seconds, my eyes took in his full appearance. He was dressed more casually than usual. He wore khaki pants, dressy shoes, and a red polo shirt. His dark hair hadn't been combed, and it swished wildly across his forehead. He looked great.

"No," I said, smiling. "I was just getting up."

"Oh good. I brought you a tea from downstairs. As well as a cookie. I don't know if it was complimentary or if I was supposed to pay...oh well. Anyway, we're meeting everyone downstairs in the café at 10, so you might want to get up."

"Thanks, Lockwood. Er, what time is it?"

He looked at his watch. "Quarter past 9. You have time to shower, if you like. There's a clean towel in there. I can leave if you want me to."

"It's fine. I won't be long. Thanks, Lockwood. Really. Especially for taking me in last night. I suppose if you hadn't showed up, I would've stayed there."

Lockwood's smile grew larger, brightening the room. "Always, Luce. It was no trouble at all." He looked down at the cup of hot tea in his hand, saying, "Be fast though, I think you'd rather your tea be warm."

"Yes, you're right." And then, I slipped out of bed and into the bathroom to shower. There on the sink sat the ghost jar covered by a small white hand towel. I realized that Lockwood must've gathered my things from my room whilst I slept in. I was suddenly grateful for my procrastination because if I had not left my things in my duffel, I would not have wanted him riffling through my drawers. I turned the shower's heat all the way, and stepped in.

From across the bathroom came a retching noise. " _Nice night, eh? You too know how to show a Skull a good time."_

"It was _not_ like that, and you know it. It's not like you helped."

 _"Oh yeah, blame it on me. I was holed up in my jar. You're welcome to let me out. Won't hear me complain."_ The voice stopped but began again all at once. _"And you better believe I saw you two. Your little Lockwood was all too happy to have you in his room."_

"Stop! I won't listen to it. You know what happened. You know that he's not like that in any way. What else was I supposed to do? Stay there?"

The Skull didn't say anything for a few moments, but when he spoke again I could hear the thoughtfulness in his voice. _"Okay. Yeah. I understand. You couldn't have done anything else. But still, I don't want you to forget us. I come first. Carlyle and Skull? The offer still stands."_

I switched off the water and grabbed a towel from outside the curtain. "If I wasn't mistaken, I would almost believe you sound remorseful."

 _"No. It's not that at all. But listen Lucy, you need to be careful. Lockwood, too. Last night was no mistake. It was no chance of luck. Someone is out for you both. Be wary. There are people who do not want you here. But they don't want you to return home either."_

"I should be angry at you, but I'm listening. I've got to go. We'll talk later." And with that, I stepped out of the bathroom.

* * *

Lockwood looked up. Oh. Oh no. My clothes. I stood there in a towel. "Uh, Luce. Your bag is right here. I could get you some clothes."

I tried to maintain a calm tone, tried to coverup my wild embarrassment and panic. "Yes, haha, that'd be delightful. Just bring the bag over here." Lockwood stood and brought me my luggage. I snatched it a little more harshly than I'd intended and slipped back into the bathroom to get dressed.

Five minutes later, I had my sundress on as well as the pendant that Lockwood had given me a few years back. It matched perfectly with my dress which was a simple navy thing with thick straps. I wasn't fond of the way it outlined my figure, nor the way it was shorter than everything else I owned. But, I suppose, I really did look good. Back home, I preferred skirts and sweaters, but the weather on the island was far from London's gloomy skies and rainy nights. Plus, Holly had taken both Flo and me shopping and insisted that I buy more seasonal clothing because "you never know when it will come in handy."

I stepped out of the bathroom, ready to seize the day. Lockwood stood out on the balcony, glass doors open behind him and white curtains dancing in the wind. I walked out and joined him. For a moment, he didn't acknowledge me; he was far off in thought. But then, as if I had just arrived, he turned to face me. "Lovely dress, Lucy. And I see you still wear that necklace. Alright. If you're ready, so am I." He looked to his watch. "Yes, right on time."

Casually, he took my hand, interlacing his fingers with mine, and led me to the door. I was shocked, but I pretended not to show it. Lockwood opened the door, and as we stepped into the hall, there we saw waiting were George, Holly, Kipps, and Flo.

"You're late," Kipps said impatiently, eye fluttering to our conjoined hands. I felt my face flush a bright shade of crimson, but Lockwood seemed not to notice. I felt his grip on my hand.

"No, we're right on time," Lockwood smiled.

"Uh, why was Lucy in your room?" George asked.

And then, Lockwood and I told them the whole story.


	3. Fire

**Hi everyone! Oh dear. It's been quite a while since the last update. I got so carried away with writing that I forgot to post regularly. To make up for it, I'm posting two chapters at once. Plus, I should have another one up tomorrow. I hope you are enjoying this story as much as I am writing it. Enough rabble. Thanks for the support! Happy reading! ~Annie**

 **Chapter Three: Fire**

"You're telling me that someone's after you?" George asked.

We all sat at a picnic table outside. The air had already begun to warm, and the sunlight felt amazing on my skin. Kipps munched on a cookie that I assumed came from the same place that Lockwood had gotten mine. Holly sat beside me, and Flo hovered near George. They had become very good friends over the last few weeks which made me thankful. And lastly, Lockwood sat across from me. Every now and then, he'd meet my gaze.

"Yes. The Skull warned me this morning. He said that someone doesn't want us here but won't allow us to leave," I responded, glancing at George.

Lockwood lifted his head, seeming like he wanted to say something, but instead chose to end the discussion. "Look. There's no point in spending the trip dwelling on it. If someone comes after you again, I'll deal with them. For now, we should enjoy ourselves. I've booked aquarium tickets for 2:00. We can hang out here or walk downtown until then."

"That sounds great, really. But, er, what do you mean 'you'll deal with them'? Isn't it, like, a team effort?" questioned Kipps.

"Yes, of course. Not sure why I said that," Lockwood murmured, deep in thought. Then, he gave a quick, enthusiastic follow-up, startling us all in the process, "Let's go, let's go. I say we head downtown...any objections?"

There were none, of course. None of the rest of us really knew what we were doing, and Lockwood seemed eager and smart enough to lead us around. Downtown was simple, but quite pleasant. A small diner, a bookstore, a flower shop. Everything seemed to have fallen perfectly in place. I walked beside Holly, laughing as we went. Since I'd come back to work for Lockwood, not to mention the recent Fittes' incident, we had not only been made closer, but we really had learned to trust one another. It was wonderful, I must say, having her around.

Next, Lockwood and Kipps were in the lead, navigating us around. Every now and then, they would stop and check in on everyone. Or Lockwood would turn around and grin at me. It meant nothing, just a reminder to smile and enjoy myself.

Finally, George and Flo brought up the rear. She seemed a little more confident, which made me smile. I was glad that she'd come with us. Not only was it a break from the Thames and her slime flange, but she was spending quality time with the members of Lockwood and Co., not to mention, George. He, himself, was doing very well. Following our walk on the other side and his prolonged injuries after being attacked by Sir Rupert Gale, George was taken to the doctor a few times, and after a few checkups, it was discovered that he'd lost weight. We were all proud of him for dropping off those... _four_ pounds, but Holly especially. She was convinced that it had been her flax seeds. The rest of us knew differently, of course. George feared Holly's seeds like a ghost fears iron. But who were we to ruin it?

I won't dwell on the subject of the aquarium. It was like aquariums are...dark, filled with vividly bright creatures, and thankfully uneventful. Kipps quite enjoyed the sea turtle exhibit, but the best part was Lockwood's fascination with the otters. It was precious...watching him make googley eyes at their furry faces, but at last, Holly had to drag him away as our time was up.

We went out for a nice dinner at a highly rated sea food restaurant, which, too, was uneventful. I had completely forgotten about the break-in that had occurred the evening before. My mind was on other things, better things. The main being Lockwood's happiness. He was lost in the moment, enjoying every second. Smiling at me with every comment, laughing at every joke. It warmed my heart, swept my off my feet. I was never happier.

The real trouble began upon our arrival back at the hotel. Dinner had been at six, and the restaurant being just down the block, we returned around seven. I noticed a man in a dark suit sitting near reception, and, although I was wary, I payed him no mind. It was when he stood up and approached Lockwood that I took notice.

"Hello," the man said.

"Good evening sir," Lockwood said pleasurably, expecting him to step aside. The man did not move. "Er, are you enjoying your stay here? It's been quite enjoyable for –" He was cut off.

"Mr. Lockwood, I presume. To answer your question, no. I am not staying here. I have come for your help. I noticed you yesterday and asked the receptionist here about you. You're agents. You're exactly who I need."

I blinked in astonishment. The man knew too much about us for my taste, but Lockwood carefully replied. "Oh. Well, that's...interesting. How can we help, sir?"

"My wife's flower shop is supposedly haunted. Her shop cat ran away from terror, and her young worker's see things. The agents on the island are quite inexperienced, and there is only one company, with who's owner I have bad relations. I saw your arrival and thought that you could help. Tonight, preferably."

Lockwood turned around to us, a look of thoughtfulness cast upon his face. "It's quick...we've never done it so fast, nor have we set up at night. But I suppose it is possible since we don't have anywhere to be until tomorrow afternoon at one, giving us enough time to work the case as well as get a good night's sleep."

George shook his head. "No. We haven't done research, we don't have all our supplies, we haven't prepared. No way."

"If I may, I have salt, iron, and any flares that you need. My brother owns a small manufacturing company and warehouse for the Problem. I apologize for such short notice, but I do have a thorough report on the haunting." The mysterious man passed it to Lockwood, who reached out, opened the folder, and began flipping through the pages. I saw a commission report attached as well. It was quite a large sum of money. The man noticed my eyeing of it and briefly stated, "In appreciation for the late notice."

George's gaze to Lockwood did not waver. He grasped his glasses by the frame, pulling them from his face, and began feverishly wiping them on his shirt. Lockwood's calm, measured voice drew all of our attention, "Come on, George. It sounds simple enough. Just a shade in the front window. Nothing more. It'll be a quick one and done. Plus, it's not completely dark. We've got yet another hour of sunlight before dusk. What have we got to lose?"

* * *

"What have we got to lose?" George mocked. It had been two hours later since our encounter with the man. Our setting up had occurred within thirty minutes of our briefing, followed by a short walk and small tour, and then, there in the greenhouse we sat in our iron circles waiting for some action. Personally, I felt a little uneasy about the whole thing. Although the sun didn't set until eight due to our geographical location, I still felt rushed, like we hadn't prepared enough. "I think this might be the rashest thing that you've involved us in, Lockwood. And that's discounting all of our Winkman encounters."

"I'm with George. And I thought you were pretty crazy after you told me about sneaking into those night markets...And breaking into Fittes' Black Library for that matter. Yeah...How was I never told about that?" Kipps asked.

"Because you never asked. And _wow_. That's a first," I said.

"What is?" Kipps sat behind me on a spinny chair that he'd found in the front office and promptly dragged into the greenhouse. His face loomed from above as he awaited my reply.

"You being on George's side." Lockwood flashed me a grin following my comment. He sat across the greenhouse from me, balanced on a wooden plant shelf. He was partially cloaked in darkness, but half of his face shown in the lantern light. His smile gleamed brightly and calmed my nerves. We'd seen nothing yet.

After that, no one spoke. We all had our chains out, our supplies ready. Still, nothing. I finally thought it would be a good idea to get a little help. Flipping open my backpack and twisting the lever, I spoke to the jar, "Skull?"

" _At last. You finally opened me up. I've been waiting for God knows how long."_

"I'm sorry. It's been crazy."

" _No need to apologize. I hear the lack of sincerity in your voice. Still..."_

"Still what?"

" _You've come for help. I'm tempted not to give it, but I would prefer to return back to London and not have my jar fingered by some random bobby."_

"What? What are you talking about?" I questioned.

" _Lucy, sweetie, there's_ nothing _here. No ghosts, no ghouls. You're on a wild goose chase."_

"Okay, I believe _that._ But return home? Of course, you'll return home. Why wouldn't you?"

" _Because of that..."_ My neck snapped up as I watched as an orange glow slowly came sailing over the glass roof of the greenhouse. It grew brighter and brighter. A flare. Whoever was attacking us, really didn't like getting involved. Instead, they threw bombs and flares to subdue us.

"Lockwood!" I shouted. My outburst startled everyone. Kipps had been messing with a plant; Holly dug through her work bag; Lockwood was shrouded in darkness but I could barely see him with his eyes closed; Flo was hunkered over in a corner eyeing her nails in the moonlight; and George was bending over, scratching some unseen place. They were unprepared. The light drew even closer, before crashing against the glass directly above Lockwood. Someone screamed. The impact sent me falling backwards, but soon enough, I was back on my feet. In through the hole in the roof, I watched as ghost bombs similar to the ones that had been thrown into my room the night before came flooding through. Three to be exact. I ripped my rapier clear from my belt.

Lockwood was directly in front of me. He, too, had drawn his sword. He looked around before returning his eyes to me. "Lucy, is it okay if I leave?" Lockwood shouted.

" _What?_ Why?" I returned. The greenhouse had caught on fire, and I was dodging the falling planks.

"I'm going after them! Can you handle the ghosts?"

"Of course! Yeah, no problem. Er, are you sure you can do it alone?"

"Well, I could, but I'm taking Kipps." He motioned towards Quill who was already moving in Lockwood's direction.

"All right. Be careful."

"You too, Luce!" Lockwood called. Our eyes met. His were sparkling, but not like usual. There was something ominously dark about them. I didn't think he should go after the men, but it was too late. They were both already gone.

 _"Think smart, Lucy. You to need to clean up those ghosts before you do anything else..."_

"Skull, I need you to help. Where are the Sources?" The ghost bombs had shattered on the floor unleashing the three pale figures. I willed myself not to look at them too much. The ghost in front was the figure of a woman who had slits lining the inside of her arms. The was a slash in her side. The second had a gunshot wound passing through the center of his forehead through which I could see the other side of the greenhouse. The final one was a small child whose body was mangled in the most awful way. He was the worst. There was a tire-track-looking imprint that crossed his forehead, made by something small. Blood covered his frail body. He was _tiny._ And he was coming towards me.

 _"Under the seed rack is the woman's Source. A pocketknife."_

Holly was directly beside it. I called to her, "Holly!"

"Yes?!" her voice shook with fright.

"No need to worry. We can handle this. See that seed rack beside you? Underneath it somewhere is a small pocketknife. Get your seal and find it. It's a Source." I heard a small chirp of a reply as Holly set to work. She'd have no trouble finding it, being the great agent that she was. "Next?" I asked the Skull.

 _"Well, the man's Source is a little more difficult. It's a chain-link from the necklace he's wearing. See how it's skewed? I think it's over near George."_ I watched as the man advanced towards Flo. His spectral light flared as he drew near. We'd given her a spare sword, of course, but she wielded her slime flange. I heard it cut through the air.

"George! Find a piece of chain-link. That's one less ghost."

"Right-o, Lucy! I'm on it." George scrambled to his feet.

Finally, the kid. Oh, god, the kid. It was awful. " _So, I've no idea what_ his _Source is. But_ , _he looks a little beat up. What d'ya think happened?"_

"I'm not sure I want to know."

 _"Too bad. He fell...or was pushed into a machine. At the warehouse."_

"The warehouse? Like the one the man was talking about?"

 _"Exactly. Unlike Rotwell, whose ghost bombs were made from random Sources, these ghosts aren't. They're made from_ victims."

I felt my voice catch in my throat. Victims. I didn't reply. Suddenly, yet another bomb came crashing through the roof. Glass flew as I fell back. My rapier was thrown from me. I struggled to my feet.

 _"Ooh. Careful. He's the strongest of them all. Definitely a Type Two, verging on a Three. Not quite there yet, of course. No way he's on my level."_

"Hush," I said.

 _"You're going to need that sword if you expect to get anywhere."_

The Skull was correct. I need my sword. And the boy stood between me and the rapier. I did a small somersault and dodged the plasm that whisked through the air. I threw a salt bomb as I came closer to my sword. The boy flung himself at me, but I rolled away. I was once again separated from my weapon. I watched as a burning plank released from the ceiling, cascading down in between us. I broke into a run. The ghost was unprepared. I heard the spectral scream that the boy unleashed, but I was moving too fast. I reached down and grabbed my sword, promptly turning to find the ghost rushing towards me. I whirled around and sliced through his upper chest. I should've been out of breath, I should've had no energy. But something kept me going. Perhaps it was the thought of Lockwood risking his life after those men, maybe it was the scene that unraveled in front of me. Holly, George, and Flo maintaining ultimate control of the greenhouse. At that moment, I realized how grateful I was. My team was the best, the absolute best. Back in the moment, I kept fighting. The boy dodged most of my swings, but finally, I saw the Source. It was a little cog, I assumed from the machine in which he'd been killed. It lay on the table where Lockwood had been sitting. We were all lucky that the ghost had not gotten him. I pushed away the horrid thought, focusing back on the Source. It was a terrible thing, despite its small size. The worst was that it was covered in a dense, red plasm. Blood. Or meant to represent it. Just like the Red Room. I chucked the silver net that I held in my hand and it draped neatly over the Source. The boy blinked out, just as he was reaching towards my face. The psychic power cut from my mind. We were alone.

By that point, the fires in the greenhouse were raging. Plants were ablaze, and the wooden structure to which the glass had been fastened was shuddering eerily. I thought they would give way. I commanded George, Holly, and Flo to get out and away from the smoke; they promptly did so. I wanted to find Lockwood and Kipps, mostly Lockwood and make sure that he was okay. I was worried, to say the least. I knew that he enjoyed the thrill of the case and chase, in this scenario, but I knew that sometimes he went too far. And many times, he'd walked away without a scratch, but he and I both knew that his luck would not last forever. After the previous winter in which George had told me about Lockwood's recklessness following my absence, I constantly wondered if it had stopped or if he just concealed it. I continued walking. I traveled through the doorway that connected the greenhouse with the main flower shop. It had not been spared from the growing fire and was starting to catch. As I walked deeper into the shop, I realized that the flames had already been there. The place was red with fire.

"Lockwood?" I called out.

I heard a voice through the flickering wicks of fire, but the smoke was so dense that I could not see. I felt my legs buckle from the strains. My mind shut down and my throat screamed. I was engulfed in soot and harsh air. I could barely breathe.

 _"Come on, Lucy. Don't give up now,"_ the Skull prompted. He was right. I had to keep going. I was thankful that he'd spoken, else I might have dropped down right there.

I continued to walk. "Lockwood? Where _are_ you?"

I heard footsteps. I whirled around. Nothing. I turned to continue on my journey and was smacked over the head by a wooden plank. I fell to the floor. I was barely conscious. The pain was excruciating, and it hurt to think. I felt the blood trickling down my neck from the back of my head. The last thing I remember thinking before blacking out was that no board come have fallen down so heavily. No. It was no accident. My injury was intended.

* * *

My head throbbed. It was sticky with blood. My hair felt light. It was brushed with dust. My face couldn't move under the layers of soot covering me. I regained consciousness slowly, like I was surfacing from a deep sleep, or from being under water too long. My mind felt fuzzy as if it had not been used for a very, very long time. Finally, I found the strength to open my eyes. And there he was. There was Lockwood.

"Lucy," he sighed. I watched as the worry slowly drew back from his eyes. His face was contoured black with soot. His hair was still dashingly swept across his forehead but seemed more ragged and misplaced. My mind registered everything, taking in all the sights. I was out next to an ambulance. Police and medical officials rushed around whilst firemen had mostly put out the flames. I looked back to Lockwood. Blue and red flashing lights flickered against his pale frame. He knelt, clutching me in his arms.

"Where is everyone?" I murmured.

"Oh, there's no need to worry about them. They're fine. They're just being checked out by the medics. Since you're awake, you should be next."

I didn't say anything. I didn't have the energy. I just lay there, in his arms. He felt so warm against my frigid body. The nights were warm on the island, but my senses were so jangled that nothing made sense. Thinking back on it, I was quite uncomfortable laying there, but I was so exhausted that I could not find the will to move. Still, I wasn't sure how long we remained like that. My memories were wrecked from the blow I took to the head. I recall sitting on the tailgate of an ambulance, running through a checkup. They wanted to take me to hospital, but I refused, since I only tested to have a minor concussion. I remember Lockwood standing close, arms around me as we watched the final flames of the building go out. It felt like the Annie Ward case. Just, more unexpected, and a lot more dangerous.

Finally, I can faintly remember being dropped off back at the hotel by a cab. Lockwood never left my side. I felt wobbly, but he was there the entire time. I remember looking up at him, seeing his eyes meeting mine. He smiled, but it was not warm. His jaw was set, his eyes locked and hard. His smile, meant to be calm, was a placebo for the cold feelings that he was emitting. Something was brewing in that mind of his, and there was no way for me to find out what.


	4. Savior

**Chapter Four: Savior**

Upon returning to the hotel,we were all shaken up, all exhausted. I wasn't sure if the case counted as a success or not. Sure, we'd located the Sources, but they'd been purposefully placed there. Plus, the shop had been completely wrecked and ended up in flames. The fire department let us go due to the circumstances, after checking us all out, of course, but for some reason, everything seemed strangely surreal. We should not have attempted the case. It was all too desperate. It _had_ to be us, it _had_ to be that night. I didn't understand. When I think back to it, we didn't even know that man's name. He had given us our payment when he arrived with the fire department but seemed impartial when it came to the burning of his "wife's" shop. We weren't charged with arson, but that's also because it wasn't our fault that the fire began. The whereabouts of the masked men were unknown. So many things seemed off balance that my mind was flooded with thoughts by the time Lockwood and I returned to his room. We had been at the reception desk for a good while asking after my new room, when they finally revealed that they had overbooked the hotel and had no more available accommodations, meaning that I would be spending yet another night with Lockwood. I truly wouldn't have minded if he hadn't been in such a bad mood. Things couldn't get any better.

"I should've known. I should've listened to George. That was ridiculous," Lockwood said. We were in his room. I sat on the edge of the bed in my t-shirt and shorts. Lockwood, on the other hand, paced back and forth in his white button down, sleeves rolled to his elbows, and dark pants. He had not sat down since we'd arrived back.

I had regained full consciousness by that time and was fully aware of the situation and my surroundings. I scratched at the white bandage that circulated my head. "Calm down. It's alright. We're all fine," I reassured him.

"Yeah, but is it?" He faced me, pointing a finger at the crimson blood that was seeping through the white dressing on my forehead. His face was dark with anger. His brown eyes flicked around wildly. I'd not seen him like that ever before. "You were directly attacked. For a second time. That was no ghost, Lucy."

"I understand that. But now's not the time. I'm okay, really."

Lockwood's gaze met mine. He was furious. After being silent for a minute, he spoke again, voice rising, "When is the time? When you're gravely injured? When you're dead?"

"Lockwood! You and I both know that will not be happening. Not now. Not ever."

"You can't ensure that, and I can't seem to do anything about it. It was my job to protect you. And I waltzed off into that case. Not to mention the fact that I left you alone. And for a _second time!_ " he yelled. Suddenly, anger flared inside me.

"Lockwood, I don't need a protector. I don't need to be cuddled and spoon-fed. I'm fine and perfectly capable of maintaining myself! Calm _down_!"

"How? _How?"_

"I don't understand what the big deal is! We've both made mistakes before. This case just threw unforeseen challenges. So, why are you overreacting?"

"Oh, yeah. Unforeseen challenges," Lockwood said, sarcastically. "Like masked killers attempting to take your life." He and I had argued before, but it was usually due to my stupidity or blind, undiscussed decisions. I would have never expected this. That's why it shocked me when it turned into a full-blown argument.

"I don't know what this is, but it's nothing to do with the case. What's going on? You know I'd follow you into anything. I'm not questioning your judgement. I never have." That was a bit of a lie. Lockwood had made some rickety decisions, but they'd always turned out alright. The case that evening wasn't as bad as many of them. I really had been okay with it all. "What is the big deal?" I burst. I felt a trickle of sweat roll down my cheek. Or was it a tear? I was getting worked up, but I was too emotional to care.

"See, _that's_ the problem. You follow me, because I'm the leader. But it's not okay. Because I mess up, and you have to take the fall with me."

I was taken aback. "And you think that bothers me? Lockwood, I trust you."

He turned away. "Quite frankly, Lucy, you don't understand."

"And that's just it. I can't can I? I'm not allowed to. And it's because you shut me out. You try to bear everything alone! But you shouldn't. I want to understand, so I don't know why you won't _let me!_ " I slipped off the bed and stepped forward, reaching out to grasp his hand. It infuriated me how he shut himself away, how he blocked me out.

"It's not that simple!" Lockwood cried, whirling around. I had been close behind him, and we suddenly stood face to face, inches away from one another.

"Then explain," I begged.

"I could never," he whispered in return. I took his hand clutching it with all of my might.

"Please."

Silence. Bittersweet silence. I could do no more.

Lockwood shuffled in the dim light of the room. He picked his next words carefully, I could tell. His anger had dissipated. It was like so many times before. He would become infuriated, but with the right distraction, he could flip moods so quickly that it was mind-boggling. In the moonlight, he suddenly seemed very fragile. He stood there, unmasked and honest, facing me. He spoke slowly, "There is something. But no words could ever describe it."

"Could you show me?"

"I suppose..."

"Then what are you waiting for?" I breathed. Lockwood's gaze met mine, unsteady at first, but all at once, he stepped closer, with confidence, and I saw a fire flame up inside his dark, sparkling eyes as he leaned forward and kissed me.

* * *

I was almost knocked off my feet. His lips were so smooth and soft, but firm as he pulled me closer to him, kissing me deeper. There was no hesitation. He knew and meant exactly what he was doing. My hands found their way to the back of his head as he wrapped his arms around my waist. We were frozen in time. I forgot everything before and everything after. All I knew is that I was there...with Lockwood. Gradually, I felt his warmth surge through me. I recalled my name and where I was. Time slowly ticked back into its routine pace. Finally, we pulled apart.

He looked at me, holding my gaze with a ferocity that made my eyes water. His eyes were like deep, brown wells. And I found myself lost in them, feeling as if I was falling. Lockwood broke the silence. "That. That is my predicament," he whispered. He was almost inaudible. My hands slipped to rest on his lower back as I leaned in to catch the soft words that floated on his breath. "I cannot lose you. I fear it every day because I know, deep down, that it would break me."

"You will not lose me, Lockwood. I will always be here."

"Promise me."

"I promise."

At that point, we fully separated, and I forced him to go get ready for bed. I had already snuggled down into the coolness of the mattress and was clutching a portion of the covers, squeezing my eyes shut. My light was off, but I opened my eyes and peered out. I could see a thin shadow as Lockwood walked from the bathroom to the bed. Even still, I felt him slip softly into bed behind me. And then, sparking my senses like lightning, he wrapped his arms around my waist and pulled me back into him. Upon contact, I realized that his shirt was gone, and he only wore the dark pajama bottoms. His toned muscles felt like ice against my warm skin. My shoulders rested against his chest and his hands remained at my hips. I interlaced my fingers with his as my heart pounded. Lockwood kissed my shoulder from behind and then rested his forehead against the back of my head. Calmly and measured, I heard his breathing slow. And I leaned back into Lockwood as I drifted off into my dreams on a cloud of sleep.


End file.
